Still Here
by Failing to Fall Out of Love
Summary: What happens when a young barmaid who has seen the worst of life meets Christian? Life happens. Friendship blossoms in a dirty bar in alleys of Paris. Better than most Christian Meets Another Girl fics.


I'm not sure where this came from, really. I was bored, so I watched Moulin Rouge, and I needed a place where I could write what happened next. So here it is!

Disclaimer: I do not own Moulin Rouge. But it has some spankin' good music.

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He just sat there. He sat there for ten long minutes, just staring down at the highly polished wood in front of him. It was like he had forgotten who he was, where is was, why he was still here.

I shivered, knowing I'd hit the mark with the last one. It was strange, seeing someone look that disheartened, no one had come in here looking like that for a long time. The last time someone had come in here looking like that, I'm pretty sure it was me.

I approached him cautiously, knowing that if anything seemed set up, he'd lash out at someone, most likely me. "Can I get you somethin', stranger?" I asked.

The man looked up. I could tell that at one time he had been handsome, and he still showed traces of that. But where once were eyes that would have sparkled with love and mirth were now filled with pain, and for a moment, even pure emptiness. Like there was nothing underneath, nothing left that could feel. The mouth was tight and drawn in, but I could tell he used to smile more than most. "Wha?" Was all he said. Now the eyes showed confusion, almost fear.

"Can I get you somethin'?" I repeated gently. "Somethin' te drink?" I said, trying to make it clear to him.

After a moment, he nodded. "Something strong, please." He said hollowly.

I sighed, looking down at him. His soul had been torn in half by something he didn't dare even remember. I tried to quiet the pity welling in the pit of my stomach, but it bubbled to the surface anyway. "Righ' away." I said.

In just a moment, I was back, passing a bottle of vodka and a small glass to him. He looked up at me in faint surprise that I would actually give him something alcoholic. "Thank you." He said.

"It's on the house." I said with a sad smile.

He looked up at me again, those sad eyes questioning. "Why?" He asked simply.

I didn't want to have to answer, but I did anyway. "Because ye need it." I said simply. "Ye need a way to drown yourself, and I didn't think chargin' ye would be fair." I said.

The man looked down, his dark hair falling over his forehead. "Thank you." He said again.

I nodded. There was nothing else I could think of to say, really. I know that the last time I felt that bad, if anyone had tried to make meaningless conversation with me, I probably would have found a good way of killing them. I leaned against the bar again, looking out into the dark streets of Paris, lost in thought.

"She's gone." The man said, and I surfaced from my thoughts. I knew if I spoke now, the moment would be gone, so to show I was listening, I simply grabbed the bottle of vodka, and refilled his glass. "She's never coming back. She always said she loved me." He said. "She _did_ love me. She was mine." He said with a dry sob, downing the small glass in a single gulp.

He looked up at me, his eyes brimming with the tears of long surpressed sadness. "I'm sorry." Was all I managed to choke out.

He slowly brought his back down to look at his empty glass. "She was perfect." He said. "She was everything. She-"

"She was your world." I interrupted without thinking.

His head shot up again. "Yes." He said.

"She was everything that mattered, and the only thing that mattered." I continued. The man nodded in affirmation. "What was her name?" I asked.

He took a ragged breath of air before answering. "Satine." He said. In only a moment, he was looking over my shoulder, lost in his memories of the woman he had loved.

I nodded. "That's a lovely name." I said quietly. I was lost for words again. This was hard.

The man sighed again. "A lovely name for a lovely woman." He said. "But I'm sure you don't want to hear about it." He said.

"The only reason I wouldn't want to hear it is if ye didn't want to tell it." I said. "No one else here, I'm all ears." I said.

In only a moment, he had become alive again. He told me of the Moulin Rouge, and Harold Zidler, and the Bohemians, and everything that had happened within the last four months. And I listened. He told me of Satine, the courtesan that he had fallen in love with, and described her in such loving detail…

When he was finished, we were both silent for a long moment. "She loved ye as much as ye love her." I stated.

He gave a humorless laugh. "But she's gone." He said. His face was emotionless, but in his eyes there was the same pain that he had come in with.

Instinctively, I grabbed his hand. "She'll never be gone, not really." I said.

The man gave me a hopeless look. He was bewildered by what I had said.

"If ye still love her, she can't be gone." I explained. "Trust me, I know." I said. It was my turn now. "It happened to me." I said, sliding my hand from his. "And I know that even if I don't see Oliver ever again, he's still here." I said, choking back a sob. "He's still alive, I know it. And so is Satine." I sighed, drawing in a shuddering breath.

"I'm afraid I don't understand." The man said.

I didn't move for a moment, just looked at him. Then I placed a gentle hand on his chest, where I knew his heart was. I could feel it beating under my hand. "She's still alive right here." I said. "As long as you still love her, she'll never die." I said, grabbing the bottle from the man's hand. I took a gulp, then handed the bottle back to him. "And just remember, you're never alone." I finished.

The man before me was just staring at me now.

"You'll always have your friends, right?" I said. "And if all else fails," I said with a strangled chuckle. "You've always got depressed barmaids to talk to." I said. "They're always there to tell you that they know the pain too."

He looked at me for another long moment. "I'm Christian." He said carefully.

I couldn't help but try to smile. "I'm Anna." I answered. "Shall I get another bottle?"

**Reviews are appreciated, but not expected.**


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